Wednesday, 15 February 2023
On my two-mile afternoon roam, I caught a bit of sprinkles, but it didn’t last, thankfully…and I forged on…the stoic (and transplanted) Midwesterner.
’Tis the rainy season, after all.
I do enjoy these blooms, very seasonal…called snowflakes. Without the cold, haha.
Sunday, 12 February 2023
Heavy frost this morning made beautiful art on our windshield, where the arc of the wiper met the smear of the last glass cleaning endeavor…such striking geometrics.
Later, at the famous Monteagle, in high-elevation Tennessee, we found the last snow of our trip. It’s all about altitude….
Home safely; however, no late-day photos. Too busy unloading, followed by making dinner instead of take-out (our typical post-trip choice), as we figured every take-out place in town would be slammed on this particular Super Evening.
Yawn. Much love, and good night.
Saturday, 11 February 2023
Dawn.
Milwaukee River.
Chicago.
Dusk.
I associate “Blue Skies” with Willie Nelson, but of course, it’s an Irving Berlin song dating to 1926. Willie’s got some years on him, but not that many, and he’s written some splendid songs, but not that one.
Wednesday, 8 February 2023
Dawn came clear and cold, and colorful.
From mid-morning on, we heard drip drip drip, and the occasional swoosh of snow falling off the roof. The deck is now snow-and-ice-less, even…although the fields remain totally blanketed.
I’m enjoying being here in a February warm spell.
The title refers to cherry pie worries. Tonight: no pits. It is the final no-pits, as the pie is now fully consumed.
Tuesday, 7 February 2023
Sometime in the night, I heard the tiny tink-tink of icy snow. As the light arrived, the branches of the trees carried a new outline of white.
However, soon the temps rose, snow left the branches, and surfaces became slushy. Once, I even caught Mr. Sun out (not sure why the clouds appear so dense and grey). Overnight, temps will drop below freezing, to rise once again—to the high 30s, meaning Return of Slush.
Sunday, 5 February 2023
We can call this a great river, at least within its region. It’s the Huron, in southeastern Michigan.
And this is two Great Lakes cleaved by a great bridge…Michigan on the left and Huron on the right, and we’re on the Mackinac Bridge. There’s no Mackinac Lake that I recall.
Snow is drifting across our road. For us, it’s a great road, but you’d probably think it’s just an almost two lane gravel road. We have a lake, over the hill in the distance, and it’s big, and grand, but not—technically—great.
Saturday, 4 February 2023
Sun-up, and we got on the road.
We drove and drove and drove. Then, the sun was dropping against a layer of thin clouds.
And we saw another celestial orb, not to be mistaken for a nosy Chinese balloon.
After dark, we reached the snow zone. Note, however, that the road and sidewalk are totally dry. No problems here…and temps overnight are to hover at freezing; that’s warm for these parts.
Friday, 27 January 2023
Well, now, that looks like spring. Early spring. And it is. Plus, sunset was after 6pm.
Wednesday, 18 January 2023
Last evening’s fog was around all night, then got denser when the sun loomed this morning, and hung around all day. Lotsa fog. This was Monday, a no-fog day.
Friday, 13 January 2023
Our azaleas sport brown, curled leaves after the seventy-ish hours below freezing we had recently. I thought a picture would be too depressing, so here’s a pansy from exactly one year ago. BTW, today’s high was 26° below yesterday’s high of 70°.